


143

by ephemeralsky



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralsky/pseuds/ephemeralsky
Summary: Bokuto, Akaashi, and the Three Words. (hint: the words aren't "I got food.")





	

**Author's Note:**

> a thing i wrote in half an hour under the influence of cinnamon sticks

Bokuto says “I love you” often.

The first time he says it, they are in high school. His tie is loose, his white shirt untucked, his grey school jacket rolled up to his elbows, his hair slightly askew. They are walking home together, and basked in the soft glow of the setting sun, he utters the words, easily and happily. What prompts him to say it - Akaashi doesn’t know. It might have been because Akaashi had just promised to treat him to yakiniku the next time they go out. They have not begun dating at this point in time.

He says it again soon when they are on the national stage, after Akaashi - in the dizzying rush of victory, hands curled into fists - has ran into his open arms on court, both of them bellowing triumph over their feat, before the other members pile onto them, and they end up having one big group hug in the middle of the court, the gym lights blinding, the roar of the crowd deafening, but Akaashi hears it whispered in his ear, the trembling words holding that flush of disbelief, of pride, of ‘we made it.’

He repeats the words in the school courtyard, under the flurry of cherry blossoms, face as red as beet. But his voice is raw with emotions and he never averts his eyes, even as he trips over the question of ‘will you date me’. The smile that adorns his face after Akaashi nods a ‘yes’ is a smile that looks as if Akaashi had just revealed that he strung the moon and the stars, and it made Akaashi feel undeserving of it, just a little.

He says it when Akaashi takes one for the team and eats the tamagoyaki he made, finishing what is supposed to be a portion for the whole club with a straight face, trying to seem as if he’s not perturbed in the least with eating the inedible.

He says it when he is wrapped in a cocoon blankets, unwashed hair veiling his red-rimmed eyes, his cheeks still warm and moist from the tears that had spilled all night long, and the words come out in a croak, like he’s not sure what else to say when Akaashi doesn’t scold him or drag him out of bed but stays with him, stays until he can find the strength to plant his feet to the ground, to face another day.

He says it when he wishes Akaashi good night over the phone, a soft reminder that the distance between them is nothing that they cannot overcome. He texts it too, among the barrage of messages he sends every day, each one carrying a heart emoji or two.  

He says it when they go out for walks on hot, balmy days and Akaashi, with untiring patience, dabs the corner of his mouth with his own neatly folded handkerchief, moving on to clean the front of his t-shirt from the ice cream he spilled because he got too excited from talking, for the seventh time, about the prank he pulled on Konoha during their reunion, as if Akaashi wasn’t in attendance of the party himself. He would say it again with teary eyes if Akaashi offers to share his ice cream, the words hollered in exaggerated reverence and adoration.

He says it when Akaashi reaches out for his hand and twines their fingers without a word as they stroll down the beach on a cloudy day, wet trousers rolled up to their knees, the sand crunching beneath their bare feet, the breeze ruffling their hair, the sea foam flowing back and forth over their toes.

He says it between the kisses he plants all over Akaashi’s face, on his eyelids, his nose, his lips, and he says it again, in a shout of joy, when Akaashi returns them with fluttering kisses to his forehead and cheek, or with deep kisses that leaves him breathless and wanting for more.

He says it when he is writhing beneath Akaashi, the words stuttered between gasps and drawn-out moans, says it in repeated fervor as he clings onto Akaashi, nails scratching the fair, smooth skin on Akaashi’s back, eyes squeezed shut, his whole body trembling.  

He says it on lazy weekend mornings through a small giggle as they crouch in front of the oven, waiting for the cookies to be done, white streaks of flour on their faces and hair as a result of the food fight they had in the midst of baking, or when they have their feet propped up on the coffee table, shoulders pressed against one another, the television at a low volume, their dog stretched out over their laps, their house wrapped in a gentle lull.

He says it in a voice drowsy with sleep, muffled against the crook of Akaashi’s neck, his arms around Akaashi’s waist, their legs tangled, and Akaashi strokes his head, over and over, until he hears the infamous chorus of snores, to which he sighs, not without fondness, before falling asleep himself.

He says it every time the thought crosses his mind; in the car when Akaashi is driving down the highway to his parents’ place, their favorite song playing through the radio. in the restaurant when Akaashi places a hand over his on the table midway through dessert. in a crowd of people during a festival as they watch fireworks burst across the night sky. in the private sphere of their home, when they are in their pajamas.

He says it so much that it makes Akaashi feel inadequate, because he himself has never been verbal or apparent about his affections, or about most of his other emotions for that matter.

He says it so much that Akaashi worries that there might be a day when he won’t say it anymore, the words exhausted, the meaning behind them gone, his feelings eroded.

 

But he’ll continue to say it, even if Akaashi doesn’t, even if Akaashi doesn’t believe he will.

“What is it, Bokuto-san? You’ve been staring at me for a while now.”

A hand under his chin and a grin over his lips, Bokuto says,

“Just thinking about how much I love you.”

Akaashi looks up from the book he’s reading, face unchanged.

He motions for Bokuto to come closer.

Eyebrows raised, Bokuto leans over the table.

In the quiet café, on a quiet Sunday morning, Akaashi holds his book over their faces, and kisses Bokuto on the mouth.

Just like every other thing he does, it carries the message of “I love you”.  

  

**Author's Note:**

> nakasomethingkun@tumblr


End file.
